Here To Hold You
by gothicbutterfly95
Summary: The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation. Dreams can be quite similar.


By the time he heard the clock strike one, Georg knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep.

He'd retired some hours earlier, after the children had been put to bed with lullabies and bedtime stories, and his fiancée had turned in; though not before he'd stolen several warm, sweet kisses from her.

How he wanted to kiss her again…

But Georg knew that, as much as he wanted to think of Maria and the kisses they'd shared until dawn came, he needed to at least try to sleep. Thinking reading for a little while might help with his insomnia, he sat up in bed to turn on his bedside lamp. But before he could do that, he heard a wail.

It wasn't loud, but it was unmistakably human, and it was clear that whoever was screaming was in pain.

Quickly finding his robe, he slipped out into the hallway to check on the children. It was dark, but his years at sea, and the fact that the children were right across from him compensated the pitch-black outside.

There was no noise from any of the children's bedrooms. He turned back towards his bedroom, when he heard the sound again.

Now, he realised, it was coming from the opposite wing of the house. It was Maria.

Barely thinking about how impulsive or inappropriate it was going to his fiancée's bedroom in the middle of the night, he raced across the mezzanine towards the staff wing.

His suspicions were only confirmed as he got closer to the governess's room. The screaming, while still relatively soft, was louder than when he'd been on the other side of the house.

He slowly opened the door. The room was only slightly lighter than the hallway had been, but he could see Maria thrashing around in bed. She hadn't heard him.

"No, no please," she slurred. She seemed to be in the middle of having a nightmare.

Georg felt helpless as he watched his love flail about in her bed, like some possessed marionette. He didn't want to wake her – nightmares never lasted – but as long as she was asleep, he wouldn't be able to help her.

Yet he couldn't bear to leave her.

"No, no…" she continued to scream. "No. NO! GEORG!"

With that final scream, she bolted upright in bed.

"I'm here my love," he whispered, making his way to the side of the bed.

"Georg?" she blinked, searching blindly for him in the dark.

"Yes," he answered softly, his heart breaking seeing the woman he loved in so much pain.

As soon as he sat down, Maria collapsed in his arms, crying. Georg rubbed her back soothingly. Soon, she relaxed; her breathing slowed, and her sobs turned to soft whimpers.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He knew it helped sometimes. Not just with nightmares; talking over anything usually got it out of your head and helped you to relax. Whenever he'd been stressed or upset when Agathe was alive, she noticed, and would badger him until he relented and told her what was on his mind.

She had helped him through his pain, and he knew Maria would do the same. He wanted to return the favour.

She sniffled and wouldn't meet his eyes, but she began talking.

"I was coming home, but when I opened the door, I was back at my uncle's," she choked out. "The children were there, lined up. I knew he was going to hurt them, I just knew – they already looked scared – so I begged him not to. I told him he could do whatever he wanted to with me, but not to hurt the children."

Georg couldn't help a tiny smile. Even in the depths of her subconscious, Maria still put others before herself.

"Then he dragged me into another room, a-and y-you were there, tied to a chair; he'd hurt you, and…"

She didn't need to say anything else. He held her close, continuing to rub circles on her back.

He'd had similar dreams. Dreams about Agathe – not being able to save her. The moment she died in his arms, replayed over and over in his head. He'd tried to shut her out from his life, but he could never erase her from his mind.

And, more recently he'd had dreams about Maria. She had left; he couldn't find her; she didn't come back. They all ended with him never seeing her again, never having the chance to tell her how much she meant to him.

But now she was here, in his arms, seeking comfort.

"Shhh, it's alright," he assured her.

"I just feel so stupid," she sniffed.

"Why?"

"Because he can't hurt me anymore," she said, exasperated. "Why am I having these dreams if I know he can't hurt me?"

"What if you don't know?" he ventured. "Maybe your brain knows that it's not real, but your mind still thinks it is."

He'd felt like that during Agathe's final days. His mind couldn't admit what his brain had processed. He knew that, despite his fiancée helping him to make peace with them, he would carry those thoughts with him for the rest of his life. Just like his memories of the war; permanently imprinted on his psyche.

"Yes." He felt Maria nod against his chest. She was already breathing easier. "That makes sense."

"But it can work the other way," he continued. "The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.*"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you are reading a book, for example, you know the characters aren't real, but that doesn't mean the feelings you have for them aren't real," he replied. "I think dreams can be quite similar."

Then he added: "I still have dreams about the war."

She pulled back to look at him. "You do?"

"Yes," he said softly. Even now he would lie awake at night, unable to stop thinking of all the horrors he'd seen, all the unspeakable things he'd _done._ "Such things never really leave you."

"Maria," he whispered, taking her face in his hands. "There's nothing wrong with feeling like this. I think it's a testament to how brave you are."

She was the bravest person Georg had ever known. She'd hidden herself away in a convent, only to be pushed out into the unknown. She'd stood up to him, in a way no one had ever before. Not even Agathe.

She'd returned after running away, and given up the only life she'd ever wanted to be with him.

Maria looked as if she wanted to say something; but no words came, so Georg just pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"Mhmm," she nodded. "I think so."

With one final kiss, Georg rose from the bed as she turned to lie back down. But she didn't; instead calling out to him, stopping him at the door.

"Georg" she asked softly. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Maria, I… are you sure?" Was she asking what he thought she was asking? He was rather shocked, knowing how important it was to her that they be wed before they made love; and now was hardly a good time to do so regardless, given her nightmare.

"Oh no, not like that," she clarified with a blush. "I just want… I want you to hold me."

"Of course," Georg crossed back towards the bed, and slipped beneath the covers beside her.

He felt her drift off to sleep in his arms, and he held her close until he finally fell asleep himself.

* * *

Georg awoke as dawn broke, as was usual for him.

Maria was fast asleep. She had slept peacefully the rest of the night; and did not stir as he extricated himself from her hold and made his way to the desk by the window. A few moments later he returned to the bed, where he laid the note he'd written on Maria's bedside table.

 _Darling,  
_ _I will take care of the children; sleep as long as you need to.  
_ _I love you,  
_ _Georg_

He kissed his love softly on the forehead. Again, she didn't wake as he turned to leave the room. He loved her more every day, and after last night, he knew sleeping with her in his arms would be something he'd treasure forever, and he longed for when it could happen every night.

At the doorway, he turned back once more to look at her sleeping form. Then he left the room.

* * *

As Georg walked down the hall to return to the master suite, he noticed Max walking through the foyer below.

"What are you doing up this early?" he asked jokingly. He would've liked to play innocent and slip by unnoticed, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Max was far more observant than he let on.

"I have an appointment in town," his friend answered. "I'm still looking for acts for the festival, you know. All I've got up to now is a basso who isn't even profundo."

"Of course," Georg said dryly. "I suppose you've decided you need someone else."

Max ignored his comment. "What are you doing up this early, my friend?" he asked. He cast Georg a look, as if to say: _yes I know._ "I wouldn't be doing my job as chaperone properly if I didn't ask what you were doing in your fiancée's bedroom last night."

"Max, when have you ever done your job as chaperone properly?" Georg said sardonically, more a statement than a question.

"Maria had a nightmare last night," he continued before his friend could speak. "I went to see if she was alright, and she asked me to stay with her…"

Georg didn't think it was possible, but somehow Max managed to look both stern and amused at the same time.

"…making it very clear that she wasn't ready for anything to go that far."

Max pursed his lips. "Well, alright."

"I'm sure you were hoping for something more scandalous," smirked Georg. "Now, enough. Run off and exploit some poor musical group."

"Georg, I'm offended," Max said dramatically. "One would suspect you think I'm mercenary."

"Try 'unscrupulous,'" Georg corrected cynically.

* * *

Maria came downstairs just before lunchtime. Georg was out by the lake. The children were playing a silly ball game that didn't seem to have any real objective. Everyone had a number, and they had to call a number as they threw it to the corresponding person.

He was glad he hadn't been roped in to being number eight.

When he saw her walk out onto the terrace, he walked up and met her at the top of the stairs. She smiled at him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked tenderly.

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded.

Georg took both her hands in his. "I'm glad." He hated seeing her upset; she was normally so happy, and anything less than gaiety meant something was wrong.

"Thank you," she added, "for being there last night. For holding me."

He drew her closer to him, and whispered in her ear:

"I will always be here to hold you, Maria."

* * *

 **The asterisked quote is from Roger Scruton, who hadn't even been born at the time TSOM is set; but I think it's beautiful, and it really was the initial idea of this story...**

 **The cover pic is from the Silver Anniversary set of Sound of Music plates by Victor Gadino. There's also a nod to _Victor Victoria_. Well done if you spotted it. **


End file.
